


Flirting & Beer & A Banjo

by CrownedAnxietyAttack



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual implications, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownedAnxietyAttack/pseuds/CrownedAnxietyAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiddleford's drunk and decides to visit his ex-best friend's brother who now lives in his ex-best friend's house. Life is complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirting & Beer & A Banjo

**Author's Note:**

> I honest to god forgot what the prompt was so the summary is shit. Probably like this fic.

Things have been rough for Stanley. Though, when he thinks about it, nothing was ever smooth for him. He had a few good years in his childhood before everything went to hell. Those ten odd years had been the most depressing time of his life. That is, until he saw his brother again. But that only lasted, like, five seconds.

Stanley shook his head violently, ridding himself of those dark thoughts. He couldn’t do that to himself. Not right now. He let out a sigh and scrubbed his face as he stared down at the worn journal in his hands. He didn’t understand any of the plans Ford had written down. No matter how many times he read it, none of it made sense. Granted, he noticed that not all of the information was there, but he hoped he could at least find _something_ that could help. Stanley rested his tired face in his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. Headaches were a part of his life now.

He was suddenly pulled out of his mind when he heard a faint melody. As it grew closer, he realized what it was. … _Is that a fucking banjo?_ He thought. He stuffed the journal between the couch cushion and the arm of the couch and slowly approached the front door. And that’s when a horrible voice began to wail what seemed like a romantic song. Stanley groaned. Oh no. Not _him_.

“I love your long hair! I- _urrp_ -love your beard! Though it’s not really a beard, it’s stubble~,” the voice sang loudly, burping the lyrics occasionally.

This is the most embarrassing thing he’s ever heard. Stan opened the door slowly and, sure enough, there sat Fiddleford McGucket, strumming away at his banjo and bellowing out those repulsive lyrics right in the middle of his porch.

“I l-like your butt too. It’s big and round and-.”

“Fiddleford, what are you doing here?” Stanley interrupted, not wanting to hear any more. He was afraid of what he might say next.

Fiddleford whipped around so fast that he fell onto his back, the banjo bouncing out of his hands and landing on his stomach and falling to the ground. The blonde only laughed and smiled up at Stan, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey there-urrp-ooh that one hurt. Hey there gorgeous,” Fiddleford purred. Stan frowned. He was painfully drunk. He did not need this right now.

“Fiddleford, go home,” Stan sighed, wrapping his arms around himself. He had nothing against the blonde. He actually liked him, despite being a little at his wits end and a little emotionally distraught pretty much all the time. Apparently, he had worked with his brother. They built the portal together and were even good friends until a year ago ago. Stan had tried to get Fiddleford to help him rebuild the portal, but the moment the blonde laid eyes on the massive machine he had collapsed and began mumbling nonsense under his breath. It wasn’t until the following week that he returned to normal. Well, his version of normal. But tonight, Stan couldn’t handle taking care of someone else. He could barely take care of himself as it is.

“Aw, come on. I just wanna talk, beautiful,” Fiddleford purred, but his look was serious. Stan bit his lip and sighed. He wasn’t going to say no. Not to the only friend he has.

“Alright, come on in. Just don’t throw up on anything, okay? If you do, you’re cleaning it up. If I don’t burn it first,” Stan said, muttering the last bit to himself. Fiddleford grinned and shakily climbed to his feet, swaying like a flag. Stan took a step back to let him pass, but Fiddleford tripped over his own feet and smack hard into Stan. Stan stumbled back a bit, surprised by the unintentional attack, and wrapped his arms around Fiddleford too keep him still, managing to keep them both standing. Stan sighed in relief but jumped when he felt hands roam over his back and up to his shoulders, making him shiver.

“Hmmm, you’re as muscular as I thought,” Fiddleford murmured in Stan’s ear. Stan blushed and tossed Fiddleford away, who luckily stumbled into the living room and collapsed into the couch. Stan heard Fiddleford laugh as he tried to erase the blush from his face.

“See, I didn’ know y-you were shy. I feel like I don’t know much about you, _urrp_. That m-makes me sad,” Fiddleford said, spreading himself to take up the whole couch. Stan’s blush disappeared and a sad look took over.

“That’s probably a good thing,” he replied quietly, closing the front door.

Fiddleford rolled over onto his side and frowned. “N-no it’s not! I demand answers. I-urrp-have a lot of meaningful questions th-that need answers,” Fiddleford said. Stan sat down on the steps the lead to the living room and stared down at his folded hands in his lap. He needed to cut his nails. They were chipped and dirty.

“…I guess it wouldn’t hurt. What do you want to know?” Stan asked. To be honest, he was actually sort of happy that someone wanted to know about him.

“Okay…do you give it or do you take it? N-normally I can tell who’s the dominant and submissive, b-but you look like you can give cock as much as you can take it,” Fiddleford asked, nearly shouting the question. Stan stared at his hands with wide eyes as his face slowly turned red. Once his whole face looked identical to a tomato, he looked up at Fiddleford who grinned down at him, fully expecting an answer.

“Wh-what the hell kind of question is that! That’s private! A-and who says I’m into men anyways?” Stan stuttered. Fiddleford rolled his eyes and flipped over again to rest on his stomach, resting his chin on the arm of the couch and staring down at Stan.

“Oh p-please. I know when a man is into cock.”

“Will you please stop saying that word.”

Fiddleford grumbled and cuddled the couch. “You gonna answer?” he asked.

Stan blushed and stared down at his fingers again. Was he really going to answer this? “It, ah, it doesn’t really matter to me. Wh-whatever me-and whomever I’m with-is in the mood for,” Stan stuttered. He hasn’t revealed something like this to someone else in so long. Even though it was super embarrassing, it was…nice? It was nice to share his life with someone else.

“H-have you ever fallen in love with another man?”

Stan paused. That was actually a good question. At least, not one that would make him stutter when he replies. “Ah…I guess. I mean, I don’t think it was love, but there was one or two that I liked a lot,” Stan replied. Fiddleford hummed and watch Stan twiddle his thumbs.

“I’ve liked a few. But they’re nothing compared to the fella I like now,” Fiddleford said Stan blinked and looked up at the blonde. He wasn’t aware that the blonde actually _liked_ people. Stan tried to think of who the man could be, but he doesn’t know anyone who talks to Fiddleford besides himself.

“Who is it? If you don’t mind me asking,” Stan said curiously. Fiddleford smiled at Stan and pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. He crooked his finger at Stan, enticing him to come closer. Stan watched him for a few seconds before getting up and walking over to the blonde. He leaned down so his ear was right next to Fiddleford’s lips. He could smell the alcohol on him. Fiddleford grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down closer and pressed his lips right against the brunette’s ear.

“It’s you, silly,” Fiddleford purred in his ear. Stan blushed, suddenly conscious of how close they were. And now Fiddleford was kissing his his jaw. And the hand on his shirt was moving lower and touching his-

“Okay! I-I think you need to go to bed. You’re clearly not thinking and-.”

“I don’t need to think to suck you o-.”

Stan slapped a hand over Fiddleford’s mouth as he blushed hard, his ears and neck turning red. “Y-you can sleep here. On the couch. The couch. And I’m gonna go sleep…elsewhere. If you need to get sick, you know where the restroom is. Goodnight,” Stan said. He removed his hand from Fiddleford’s mouth and stiffly made a hasty escape. Fiddleford watched him leave and smirked as he snorted.

“He’s too cute.”

_Next Day_

Stan got hardly any sleep that night. All he could think about was what Fiddleford had said. How he confessed. And he fought with himself over whether Fiddleford had meant what he said. He couldn’t deny the serious look in Fiddleford’s eyes when he said that he liked him. Stan blushed at the thought but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He was flattered to say in the least. Stan was pretty confident in his appearance, sort of, but he wasn’t so sure that people actually recognized that he was attractive. His personality was pretty great too, or so he thought. But it’s been proved in the past that not everyone agrees. Stan walked into the living room to see Fiddleford curled up on the couch, clutching his head and lightly mumbling to himself. Oh no. Stan’s smile dropped and he rushed over to Fiddleford, dropping to his knees in front of him.

“Fiddleford? Are you okay? Come on, buddy, talk to me,” Stan said, running is fingers through his thick blonde hair and trying to pry his hands from his face. Fear rose up in Stan as he felt Fiddleford struggle against him. No. He can’t lose him too. He can’t be alone again. “Fids, please snap out of it. Please!” Stan begged, ripping Fiddleford’s hands away from his face. Once he had an opening he lunged, capturing Fiddleford’s lips with his own in a firm, passionate kiss. Fiddleford became limp in his arms and began kissing back, his hand reaching up to tightly clutch the front of Stan’s shirt. Fiddleford’s tongue dashed out and brushed Stan’s lips, making them both groan before they parted for air.

“I wish I could just snap out of a hangover, but it’s not that easy. The kiss was nice, though,” Fiddleford said. Stan blinked and pulled back slightly.

“Wait…you mean…you were just balled up like that because you have a hangover?” Stan asked. Fiddleford raised a brow and lightly smiled.

“What do you think I was doin’?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan blushed. He honestly thought Fiddleford was having another breakdown like before, and he was only having a freaking headache. Stan blushed harder when he realized that he _kissed_ him to get rid of a _headache_. Well this is embarrassing. Fiddleford cupped Stan’s face with his hands and gently kissed him, lightly groaning before pulling away.

“Your lips are better than imagined. So…does this mean you return my feelings?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan blinked and blushed, but a smile spread across his face. “Yeah. You’re pretty cute for a hillbilly,” Stan teased. Fiddleford chuckled and pulled Stan into a tight hug, of which Stan eagerly returned.

“So do you wanna fuck now or…?”

“Don’t make me kick you out.”


End file.
